Passengers in the Car: What if Difficult Thoughts and Feelings Didn't Have to Stop You?
What if you didn't have to get rid of difficult thoughts and feelings before you could get on with your life?
It's something I come back to a lot in my work with clients.
Because when anxiety, self-doubt, shame or overthinking show up, our instinct can be to try to make them go away.
We try to reassure ourselves.
We analyse.
We avoid.
We check.
We procrastinate.
We stay busy.
We seek certainty.
We try to convince ourselves that everything will be okay.
And sometimes we stop altogether.
Because somewhere along the way, we can start believing that we need to feel better first before we can do the things that matter to us.
This is one of the ideas I love about Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT).
And it brings me to one of my favourite ACT metaphors.
Passengers on the bus... or passengers in the car?
There is a classic ACT metaphor called Passengers on the Bus.
The idea is that you're the person driving the bus, while all sorts of passengers climb aboard.
Some are friendly.
Some are irritating.
Some are frightened.
Some are extremely loud.
And some seem determined to tell you exactly what they think you should be doing.
The metaphor explores what happens when we allow those passengers to dictate where we go.
But I've made a small adaptation.
My clients drive cars.
So in my therapy room, it's Passengers in the Car. 😄
And yes, I may have actually filmed a therapy video using a racing wheel.
Because apparently that's where my career has taken me. 😂
But underneath the slightly ridiculous visual is an idea that I think can be really useful.
Meet the passengers
Imagine you're driving your car.
You know roughly where you want to go.
Maybe you're moving towards a relationship that matters to you.
A difficult conversation you know you need to have.
Something you've always wanted to try.
A decision you've been putting off.
Or simply a life that feels more meaningful to you.
And then the passengers start talking.
There's Anxious Annie:
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"What if something goes wrong?"
"We should probably turn around."
Then Self-Doubt Steve joins in:
"You know you're probably going to mess this up, don't you?"
"You're not really capable of doing this."
"Other people would probably do it better."
Then Sheamus Shame has something to say:
"Everyone's going to see what you're really like."
"You shouldn't have said that."
"Why can't you just be normal?"
And, of course, there's Overthinking Olivia:
"Hang on. Before we continue, I think we need to analyse this from every possible angle."
"What if we made a list?"
"Actually, maybe we need another list..."
And sometimes they all start talking at once.
If you've every experienced that, you'll probably recognise the feeling.
Because the passengers aren't necessarily the problem.
It's what we do when they start talking that can become interesting.
What happens when we try to throw the passengers out?
Sometimes we stop the car.
We get out.
And we try to throw the passengers out.
We might spend enormous amounts of energy trying to get rid of anxiety.
Trying to argue with self-doubt.
Trying to convince ourselves that we shouldn't feel ashamed.
Trying to think our way out of uncertainty.
Trying to make difficult thoughts disappear.
And sometimes, for a little while, it works.
We might feel calmer.
We might feel more certain.
We might get a little relief.
But the passengers don't necessarily stay gone.
So we get back in the car.
We drive for a bit.
And then they start talking again.
So we stop.
We get out.
We try again.
And eventually we're exhausted.
Frustrated.
Fed up.
And perhaps we reach the point where we think:
"Fine. I can't do this."
But there's something important that can be easy to miss.
While you've been out the back trying to get rid of the passengers, you've stopped driving.
And you're no longer moving towards what matters.
Sometimes we turn the car around
We don't always stop completely.
Sometimes we turn around.
We take a detour.
We decide to go somewhere else.
Maybe we avoid the conversation.
Maybe we don't apply for the job.
Maybe we don't tell someone how we really feel.
Maybe we don't try the thing we've always wanted to try.
Maybe we decide that we're simply not the sort of person who does those things.
And sometimes we stay parked.
Because if we can't make the passengers quiet, perhaps it's safer not to go anywhere at all.
And this is where I think ACT offers a really interesting alternative.
What if the passengers could come with you?
ACT isn't about getting rid of anxiety.
It isn't about silencing self-doubt.
It isn't about eliminating shame.
And it isn't about finally getting your thoughts under control.
Instead, we can start becoming curious about what's happening.
What are the passengers saying?
What are they trying to protect you from?
What happens when you listen to them?
What happens when you believe them completely?
And perhaps most importantly:
Where are you trying to go?
Because what if you don't have to throw the passengers out?
What if you don't have to convince them to be quiet?
What if you can notice that they're there...
...listen to what they're saying...
perhaps even understand why they're saying it...
...and keep driving?
Anxiety can be in the car...
...and you can still have the difficult conversation.
Self-doubt can be in the car...
...and you can still try something new.
Shame can be in the car...
...and you can still let yourself be seen.
Overthinking can be in the car...
...and you can still make the decision.
The passengers don't necessarily have to disappear.
They just don't get to decide where the car is going.
You don't have to feel ready before you start driving
I think this is one of the things that can feel quite different about ACT.
We often assume that the order should be:
Feel better ➜ feel confident ➜ feel certain ➜ take action.
But life doesn't always work that way.
Sometimes the anxiety is still there when we have the conversation.
Sometimes self-doubt is still there when we try something new.
Sometimes our mind is still producing seventeen different possibilities when we finally make the decision.
And that's okay.
The aim isn't to become someone who never experiences difficult thoughts or feelings.
It's to become more able to notice them without automatically handing them the steering wheel.
Because there is a difference between:
"I'm anxious; therefore, I can't do this."
and:
"I'm anxious, and I'm choosing to do this because it matters to me."
There is a difference between:
"My mind is telling me I'm going to fail, so I shouldn't try."
and:
"I'm having the thought that I'll fail. I'm going to take the next step anyway."
That little bit of space can make a surprisingly big difference.
So where are you driving?
One of the questions I often come back to in therapy is:
What matters to you?
Not what you're supposed to want.
Not what would make other people happy.
Not what would make you look successful.
Not what would make your anxiety disappear.
But what actually matters to you?
Because once we have some sense of where we want to go, we can start noticing what happens when the passengers speak up.
Perhaps you notice that you always turn around when anxiety appears.
Perhaps you stay parked whenever you can't guarantee you'll get things right.
Perhaps you take endless detours because you're waiting to feel certain.
Perhaps you've become so focused on managing the passengers that you've forgotten you were driving somewhere in the first place.
And you don't have to beat yourself up for that.
Those patterns usually make sense.
They've probably been attempts to help you cope.
The interesting question is whether they're still taking you where you want to go.
And this is where therapy can become experiential
This is one of the reasons I love working creatively with ACT.
Sometimes talking about a pattern isn't quite enough.
Sometimes it's easier to understand something when we can see it.
Or hold it.
Or physically experience it.
That's why I use metaphors, visual exercises and experiential activities in my work.
The finger trap.
The suitcase.
The ACT Matrix.
Passengers in a car.
These aren't just quirky things to do in therapy.
They're ways of taking something that can feel complicated, abstract or completely tangled up inside your head and making it visible enough to work with.
And sometimes, a little bit of ridiculousness helps too. 🤪
Because therapy doesn't have to be solemn all the time.
There can be serious conversations.
There can be painful moments.
There can be silence.
And there can also be a counsellor sitting behind a racing wheel talking to imaginary passengers called Anxious Annie and Overthinking Olivia.
All of that can belong in the same therapeutic space.
You are still the driver
Perhaps the most important part of the metaphor is this:
The passengers don't get to decide where the car is going.
You do.
That doesn't mean you can control everything that happens on the journey.
You can't control every thought your mind produces.
You can't guarantee that anxiety won't show up.
You can't prevent shame, grief, uncertainty or self-doubt from occasionally climbing into the car.
And you don't need to.
You can notice them.
You can make room for them.
You can learn from them where that's useful.
And you can keep choosing your direction.
Sometimes you'll take a wrong turn.
Sometimes you'll need to stop.
Sometimes you'll realise you've been driving in completely the wrong direction and need to change course.
That's part of being human too.
The goal isn't a perfectly smooth journey.
It's having more freedom to choose where you're going even when the passengers are making a lot of noise.
And perhaps, over time, you might discover that you don't need to spend quite so much energy trying to get rid of them.
You can simply say:
"Yes, I hear you."
And keep driving.  🌿
If this feels familiar...
You don't have to arrive at counselling knowing exactly what's wrong or having a plan for where you want to go.
Sometimes we begin simply by noticing what's happening - the thoughts, feelings, behaviours and patterns that have become part of your life.
My approach is person-centred and informed by ACT, with a focus on developing greater awareness, compassion and psychological flexibility while moving towards a life that feels meaningful and aligned with what matters to you.
I offer face-to-face counselling in central Grimsby and online counselling across the UK.
If you'd like to explore whether counselling with me might be right for you, you're welcome to book a free Introduction Call.
You don't have to get rid of the passengers before you start driving.
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